Life's a...

Yesterday we went to the beach for the second time this week. We’d go to the beach all the time in Ireland, the Irish Sea with its promenade, stone beach, ‘boulders’ to climb and sea glass waves just a short walk from our house. The difference here is that while many people regularly swim in the Irish Sea, its freezing temperatures always kept me firmly in the stones, never once venturing further in than my ankles, which immediately became numb from the cold.

While the Mediterranean is no Caribbean temp wise, at least not in May, it certainly is a far cry from any of the water surrounding Ireland. No offense meant to my soul’s second home and a lifetime of good friendships made but it is just sooooo much warmer here. After lounging long enough in the fine sand to work up a sweat, the Middlest and I hit the water. Holding hands and giggling at the shock of chilly water on our tummies we counted 1, 2, 3! and dunked. As we came up, refreshed and happy my sweet boy said, “Mommy, you look pretty!” He’s a charmer that one.  

Most of the afternoon was spent ‘digging holes to China’ (guess I should look at the globe and figure out what’s on the other side of France), catching crabs and trying to keep the kids from ogling the boobies. Why don’t French kids act silly around all the exposed breasts? I guess you’d think it’s because they’re used to it but even the baby couldn’t get enough booby watching. 

And the kids can’t be convinced that being French doesn’t necessarily equal not understanding English. ‘Look at that lady’s boobies!!! They’re so LOW!’ Or when Ma Fille so pleasantly told me, ‘Go ahead Mommy and show your boobies, everybody will understand because they can see you have three kids.’

Well, thanks a million. Sometimes I wish I didn’t understand English.